


phasma vespertine

by ienablu



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:48:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/pseuds/ienablu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her ambition reaches far beyond Captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	phasma vespertine

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to challenge myself by finishing a fic in a shorter time frame, and by keeping it from sprawling into something longer than intended.

Like so many, she was taken as a child. 

*

Her memories of her childhood were fleeting, threading through her dreams until time frayed them into near nothingness. All that remained were fragments that jarred nostalgia deep in her chest. She could not recall the memories herself, but she collected the echoes: The smell of wet dirt in spring. Dark sunsets in gradients of violet. The silvery sound of a laugh.

They were few in numbers, they were forbidden, but they were hers.

*

Like so many, she was taken as a child. Scared and uncertain, expected to command and obey.

*

She recited the ideology she was taught, and struggled to keep her resentment contained. Struggled to keep a calm exterior, to prevent the stirring of any suspicion.

Solace was found in training. It was grueling, and where the others all struggled. Mental, physical, emotional boundaries snapped and reformed. It wore down so many of their numbers.

She refused to give in. They wanted her to push herself, and so she pushed herself. Harder and harder, past what they expected from her, harder and harder, past what she expected of herself. She was young, but she was powerful.

*

Like so many, she was taken as a child. Scared and uncertain, expected to command and obey. 

Unlike the others, she started planning her escape early on.

*

There was dissention among the Order. 

There was always some dissention, it was unavoidable. The way to maintain order was to know order could not be wholly maintained. There was a need to be cautious, a need to be proactive, but a need to let certain elements play out.

The skirmishes with the Resistance increased in frequency and ferocity. Numbers and morale dwindled.

Whispers started to fill the quiet corners of quarters. Not doubts, but questions. One question became a refrain: 

Who would kill Snoke?

Hux thought the talk treasonous – Phasma thought it only natural.

When Snoke was beheaded, it was neither the scavenger nor the traitor.

*

Like so many, she was taken as a child. Scared and uncertain, expected to command and obey. 

Unlike the others, she started planning her escape early on. She was twelve when she left the Jedi Academy.

*

The moment stayed suspended in silence.

The scavenger and traitor both went still.

Snoke slain, body lifeless on the ground.

Kylo Ren was the first to move. He sunk to his knees. “You killed him.”

“His power has long since waned,” Phasma replied. “I put him out of his misery.” 

“You killed him,” he repeated.

“Are you going to join the battle or wallow on your hands knees?” Phasma asked.

He only stared at her. 

She could feel his fury and his grief, emotions crashing into each other. Even if he were to rise onto his feet, he would be worthless in battle. “So be it. I will deal with you later. For now…” She turned back to the scavenger and FN-2187.

The scavenger stood there, lightsaber glowing a bright blue before her.

FN-2187 stood with his lightsaber lifeless in his hand.

“Draw your weapon, FN-2187.”

“That’s not my name anymore, Captain.”

“The title is not Captain, FN-2187,” she said. She drew her own lightsaber, burning a bright red as it hissed to life. “It’s Darth.”

“Darth Phasma,” he murmured. 

The scavenger rushed at her, and Phasma bat her away like a gnat, a push of the Force sending her flying.

FN-2187, the traitor, cried out her name, and tried to rush after her.

Phasma blocked his path. “Draw your weapon,” she ordered.

He stared at her. Swallowed. “Take off your helmet.”

She no longer needed the guise of needing protection, and she was long familiar with the art of compromise. The helmet made a hollow clang as it fell to the floor. She repeated, “Draw your weapon.”

He hesitated.

She sighed. “Your weakness is a disappointment,” she told him, starting to circle him. “When we took you from your home planet, I felt the stirrings of the Force in you. Through the years, I helped hone you, your abilities, your ambition…”

He stared at her, defiance in his gaze.

She came around full circle, standing before him. “Join me.”

“Never.”

Disappointing.

The clash of lightsabers was anything but.

She smirked down at him over the cross of their sabers, watching her red reflect in his eyes. “Oh, you will. In time.”

*

Like so many, she was taken as a child. Scared and uncertain, expected to command and obey. 

Unlike the others, she started planning her escape early on. She was twelve when she left the Jedi Academy.

She told herself that, in time, she would rise above them.


End file.
